Chapter Thirty Six; ...and an End.
Well here it is guys, the last chapter of 'Princess of the Rogue'.
Buffy fans should know what I mean later. And those who don't- find out. Where have you been for the past eight years? It took a lot for me to write, and post this; I hope it is worth it.
Jonathon picked his way through the rubble that was scattered all around the hall. The survivors were congregating in the next room, the braver men and those who could heal were seeking out the dying and the wounded and were healing where they could, or putting an end to their suffering. The dead were carried out into an antechamber, while the men wearing Eldorne colours were thrown into a smaller room, ready to be burned on Traitor's hill.
They had cleared the back half of the hall of people when Gary and Raoul limped up to the Prince. Both had been in the thick of the fighting and had sustained some injuries, although none severe enough to immediately require a healer. Gary had been cut in the shoulder, and carried his left side stiffly. Raoul sported a bruise on his temple and a split eyebrow and his left eye was slightly out of focus, occasionally he would stop, shake his head like a dog then carry on. The knights greeted each other wearily.
The fighting hadn't ended at once when Roger's spell had been ruptured. It had taken a while for all of his allies to realise that surrendering was the best option for them.
"Did you hear Jon?" Alex said, returning from the healer's rooms. "Both Master Raquel and the Shang Dragon are dead."
"No!" Although he hadn't got to know Liam Ironarm well, he knew Alanna had cared for him deeply and she would be devastated for his death.
"The Dragon was the one who broke the spell. All the magic in the Gate went through him." Alex explained soberly. "Duke Baird says it literally ripped him apart inside. But before he died he was muttering something about Alanna. He was gone before he could make it clear what he was saying."
"And Master Raquel?" Gary asked.
"Master Thom says they were both thrown over the balcony by Roger's magic. Raquel was unlucky; his head hit a stone when he landed. Thom managed to slow his flight down a little. He is quite cut up from the bushes he landed in though."
"Has anyone seen Alanna?" George limped up behind them
"She's probably helping the healers or out looking for any stray rebels." Raoul said.
She lay face down upon a hard stone floor. She could feel the cold smoothness disturbed by cracks through the marble beneath her cheek.
She could no longer feel her feet or her hands as the loss of blood took its toll upon her body. The pain in her back and chest were fading now, but she could still feel a sharp edge digging into her body, through her ruined dress. She tried to move but found that all she could do was lift a feeble hand to try and push herself over, but failed as it fell back to the ground, her muscles wracked with pain.
Someone's torn skirts came into her vision and the lady knelt down beside her head, talking softly to her as they examined the wound.
'Don't bother with me' she wanted to say 'Go and save someone else who can be saved. I have lost too much blood. I know I am going to die soon." She was a healer, so she knew the signs, weariness, blurry vision and a horrible ache in her skull.
The woman had obviously come to the same realisation as she had, because she heard her voice change tone, from softly reassuring to sorrowful.
Suddenly she felt a coolness spreading down her body, as the woman bent low over her. She shut her eyes, they were chanting a spell, probably to put her to sleep, so she could die without pain.
'Don't waste your energy' she thought. 'There is no pain, not anymore.' Her hearing and vision cleared for a second and she opened her eyes, seeing a coppery curl lying on the floor beside her head. She heard the woman begin chanting again, then she caught a familiar word; 'Alanna'.
'Alanna' she thought fuzzily, as her eyelids closed of their own accord, as she accepted that her death was inevitable and that she could not fight it. Even as her sleepy mind struggled to keep her alive, her heart faltered. 'Oh yes, I am Ala...'.
She was unable to finish her thought as she sensed her world changing into soft darkness.
Then the Dark God came for her.
"Come then," he said, "Your mother is waiting for you now."
And she went willingly, only sparing a quick thought for those she left behind her.
"Oh well." She said to the cowled God of Death. "I belong here now."
The young knights roamed the hall, looking for their friend.
"Prince Jonathon! Majesty!" Stephan ran up to them, his usually placid face twisted in devastation. "You should see this." He led them at a run to the entrance of a balcony. Just inside the doors laid a body, covered with someone's cloak.
They all froze in their tracks, frantically hoping that this wasn't what they all feared deep in their hearts. George was the first to move forwards. Gently he pulled the cloak down from the head.
"No. No. No!" He fell to his knees, tears streaming down his cheeks. Gary pulled the rest of the covering away, before also kneeling, at the feet, also crying out in shock as the rest froze.
A young girl lay there, sprawled across the floor, she was short and slim and her fiery copper hair fell across her face, obscuring her features. Jonathon knelt beside her head, still vainly hoping that it wasn't her. Carefully he pulled the hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear,
"No!" Tears began trickling down his cheeks too as he saw her face. "Alanna!"
He struggled to turn her over, then realising he couldn't see properly through his tears, wiped them away, then he saw the reason why he had been unable to roll her onto her back. She had been shot in the back at very close range, although her face was peaceful and unmarked save for a few scratches, her body was twisted in agony. The bolt had gone through her lung and emerged between her breasts. Jon fumbled for his dagger, then accepted Raoul's as the big knight offered it to him. All of the men were kneeling on the floor, unashamedly weeping as Jon cut the shaft and pulled it out of her body, then grabbing the arrowhead in his hand, not noticing the pain that bit into his palm. It was nothing compared to the pain that was in his heart. He did not miss the irony that Alanna had performed this same service to him not long before, and he was alive while she was not.
Jon finally managed to turn her over so she was lying on her back.
George took her hand carefully and started checking for a pulse. When he found her skin was barely warm and her pulse was non existent, he let her wrist drop and buried his head in his hands and wept harder.
Defeated and exhausted by the long battle and grief, they all crumpled to the ground around her serene body.
All at once they had lost a loyal friend, a devoted daughter, a potential lover and the bravest warrior the country had ever known.
Time to go.
'Little Miss Muffet, counting down from 7-3-0.'
HuntressDiana.